


186 Tiles

by leporicide



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Depression, Dinosaurs, Drug Use, Eventual Romance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Road Trip, Slow Burn, Support Systems, Weird New Planets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:10:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7372243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leporicide/pseuds/leporicide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance can't forget what happened.  He sees it flash behind his eyelids when he sleeps and hears it in the silence of space when he's alone.  A routine maintenance check for the Lions finds Lance in a carrier ship traveling half way across the universe with none other than the big hero himself in search of parts they sorely need.  </p><p>Lance and Keith are forced to accept the worst in each other and learn to notice the best.  Together, they find ways to start easing the pressure of the fate of all life resting on their shoulders.  With only massive amounts of hiccups along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This work is currently unbeta'd and still in development but I just want to get started on the good stuff so here's a prologue. Hmu on twitter as a delve into voltron trash (@t33thing). Rate E for the future, and be mindful of the tags as they might increase. Also, Big Bird by AJJ is my sad Lance theme song.

 

 _"I'm afraid of my Grandfather's cancer  
_ _and I'm afraid of my mom's dying arm.  
_ _I'm afraid that I've somehow caused my family harm.  
_ _I'm afraid that the ones I love won't have enough."_

No one sees it coming.

Lance counts the tiles on the ceiling above his bed.  He counts them in twos, even numbers, and closes his eyes to breath each time he finishes.  It takes sixteen minutes to count them all; he takes these intermittent pauses to clench his fists and sometimes, he loses track and has to start over.  He does this until his eyes remain closed, until his breathing steadies and his fists relax.

He can still hear metal beams bending, the groaning sounds once stable structures make before they crumble.  He can smell the burning ash in his nose and feel the heat on his skin, and it's tender like a lover and it's cruel like a lover.  Lance remembers the heaviness in his chest, the pain in his throat and the slow crawl of fear that swallowed its way up his spine.

There are 186 tiles on his ceiling. Lance knows because he counts them for four hours before falling asleep.  Lance knows because he's grown intimate with that number today, has been growing intimate for a few days.  It's the number of days he wishes he was home, it's the collection of photographs he saved on his computer, it's the number of tiles on his ceiling.

It's the number of people he's killed.

\---

Shiro stands tall in front of them, which isn't hard considering everyone is on the floor, surrounding him in a half circle and looking up.  "We can't save everyone," he says, which is just as heroic as Lance imagined it coming from him.  It sounds brave, like there was nothing they could do and that these things just happen.

No one speaks up and Shiro is looking directly at him.  Lance isn't stupid, he was the second choice fighter class pilot for a reason.  Lance knows this meeting is for him and even though no one but Shiro is looking at him, he knows that everyone's watching.

"Isn't that obvious?" His voice is light and he gives a modest shrug of his shoulders. an unsure half smile hanging on his lips, loosely hinged and ready to fall.  Everyone exhales.

"Yeah, of course," Shiro nods.  He's no longer looking at him.  Lance feels blessed. "But that's why we'll train harder.  We'll get stronger, work better as a team and only become a more powerful force against the Galra."  There are soft mumbles of agreement, slow nods and small smiles being shared between the paladins, because Shiro was right.  Mistakes and errors happen in every battle field, that's just basic statistics.  Lance wants to laugh but he knows it's inappropriate.

The meeting ends on a high note, with a promise not to suddenly split up in any more upcoming battles.  "No more sudden tactical decision making, Lance" is what Hunk calls out as they move to the dining hall.

"It was a perfectly good plan!" Lance retorts, shooting Hunk a sharp grin.  Hunk responds with all teeth.

"Maybe in your dreams."

Lance is laughing now, and he thinks it looks like he's falling into hysterics but no one says anything.  Rather, Hunk joins him and Pidge follows soon after.  They're all wheezing by the time they reach the long stretch of the table. Lance has tears at the corners of his eyes.

He doesn't stop laughing though, even when everyone sits down, just muffles it enough to keep it to himself.  The only give away is the slight rise and fall of his shoulders.  Hunk retells this story about how cooking is becoming more of a battle than a chore.  Pidge reminds everyone that routine maintenance on their lions is a good idea. Keith is quiet the whole dinner.

Lance pretends not to care.

\---

Keith catches him on the way out, two turns away from Lance's room.  There's no subtly to it, no finesse.  He's clutching Lance's bicep, not tightly enough to be unable to break free, but it's a stern hold.

"Um, Keith?"  Lance watches Keith go through the motions, the uncertainty giving way to determination, to single-minded purpose.  It's the same look he gets when Shiro asks him to spar and it's the same look he gets when he goes up against the Galra.

"If you," he pauses but there's a fire in his eyes.  Lance feels his footing is off and he's lost his center of balance. "If you ever need to talk about..about what happened, know that--"

Lance laughs in his face. "Dude, oh my god." He feels the fingers around him tighten. "Don't be so serious, you were always a downer back at the academy but really dude?"

Keith's determination is slowly dimming but he doesn't back down.  "Lance, this isn't funny.  None of us but you were there and you haven't uttered a single word about what really happened.  Don't act like it's nothing."

"But it is nothing!" Lance doesn't realize he's shouting until he watches Keith take two defensive steps back, serves him right. Lance is still half smiling. "Really," he says more quietly. "Nothing happened that we haven't seen.  I know I mess around, but I'm not a child Keith. "

Keith is watching him closely, taking in the lines of his eyes and the strain it takes to keep his mouth positive.  Lance is tired, he just wants to lay in bed and count until he sleeps.  He's noticing that people are becoming draining.  He misses his mother.

"Alright." Lance follows Keith's hand falling to his side before awkwardly reaching to scratch the back of his neck.  "I'll see you around," he mutters, knocking into Lance's shoulders as he walks away.  The shove wouldn't normal fade him but it feels like he's knocked off his feet, forces him to rest on the wall as Keith leaves the hallway. 

The weight of the not-conversation is heavy and course and rests on his tongue.  Lance pushes himself off the wall, twists his body upright and continues down the path to his room, humming an old song to himself and rubbing his eyes.  He gets into bed with relative ease and starts counting.  This time, he goes by fours.  

He reaches 186 three times before his breathing steadies.


	2. I: Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Kouji, the Keith to my Lance, the pal to my buddy, for beta'ing this chapter for me.

Lance sits on the navigation board when he arrives, for once, early to the meeting today.  He’s the first one in command deck and when he assumes his spot on the board, he folds his legs to avoid them touching the ground.  He’s gotten taller, he thinks, since they were shot head first into a holy crusade that is space wars.  He knows because he feels the familiar pains in his ankles, wakes up with that dull throb in his lower back.  Lance thinks he sometimes feels ancient in his skin, stretched wide and taut.

He’s still shorter than Shiro, but the gap is closing.  Pidge had noticed a week ago, making mild jabs at Lance being competitive about everything, even his height.  Shiro looked genuinely surprised, made childish fun of having them stand back to back. 

“You can handle all the high routine checks now instead of me,” Shiro joked, giving a small laugh when Lance pulled a face.

“Or you could act as our personal ladder.”

“Not for you, Hunk,” Lance shot back, playing anger but couldn’t resist the smile that sprouted on his face.  He ignored the shout of protest from Hunk until he was being picked up and tossed over the couch.

“You better gain some muscle mass or you’re just string beans forever.” Hunk gave his right leg a pinch, hardly hurt and more affectionate than anything over the couch.  Lance tried to kick him in the face and intentionally missed by a foot.

“Oh, screw you.”

The meeting ended with them being reprimanded by Allura for acting reckless inside a ship that has had enough internal damage to last a lifetime.

Lance figures she’d be pissed to see him sitting on the navigation board now.  He doesn’t move to uncross his legs.  Keith is the second to come in, strolling in like it’s natural for him to be early.  He stops when he spots Lance, half dangling from the board.  There’s an awkward silence that follows him. 

Ever since Keith’s confrontation with him a couple weeks ago, Lance has been struggling to show any appreciation he was originally building for the guy.  He doesn’t think it’s gone or that he’s reverted to the good old rival attitude, but rather there’s this strange disconnect between them.  A feeling of detachment is festering in Lance, and it sweeps over him like a flu.

Keith breaks the silence.

“So, are we having a meeting or..?”

 _He must think he’s late if he’s seeing me here_ , Lance grins, leaning back on the board as if it belongs to him.  Allura is going to be incredibly pissed.

“Yeah man, you missed the whole thing.  We voted, unanimously, to have you decommissioned.  Sorry, buddy.”

Keith is unimpressed.  His face falls flat and strolls his way to the wall left of Lance, his shoulders hunched.  Everyone has been going through growth spurts, Lance notes.  Keith is filling out more.  He’s still shorter but his obsession with training is coming to fruition.  He’s lean and aggravatingly good looking and Lance finds himself growing annoyed with him again.  It feels like an old wound and only worsens when he looks down at his dangling legs, still thin and wiry despite his efforts.  He knows he’s filled up himself, can measure the width of his shoulders and the shape of his arms in vain comparison. He pinches his left leg, but it’s not like how Hunk did it at all.  There’s a radiating pain that sits after.

Keith is watching him from the corner of his eyes, Lance can feel it.  So, when he looks up he immediately sticks his tongue out like a child.  Keith looks angry, like he’s going to say something before he’s interrupted by Allura screaming.

“Get off the navigation board, Lance!”

All his attention was on Keith, so the shout startles him half to death.  His intimate connection with the floor is well deserved.

“Lance, don’t mess with equipment,” Shiro says right after, following Allura in with the rest of the paladins.  Lance gives them a goofy grin and a shrug, sparing a small glance back at the red paladin only to find Keith’s attention now solely focused on Shiro. 

He quickly rights himself and joins the group around their leader.

“So what’s this emergency meeting about anyway?” Lance was already awake but there’s no need to share that information. 

“Pidge noticed something of grave importance,” Allura begins, waiting for the small nod from Pidge. “The Lions have been under heavy pressure in our last few battles.”  Allura makes a point to stare down at Hunk, who only last week thought it would be effective to ram his Lion right through two Galra attack ships.  Hunk decides his sneakers look rather interesting and keeps his eyes low.  “They’re in need of some repairs.  Unfortunately, since the Lions are ancient technology we no longer have the parts we need around our immediate coordinates. We’re going to have to gather them the old fashioned way.”

“We’re going on a road trip?” The question slips through Lance’s lips before he could stop it, a habit he thought died a few weeks ago.

“Some of you will be,” Shiro replies.

“We are going to need to send a small group.  We can’t afford to leave the ship unprotected here but I don’t know how much more the Lions can take without proper care.

“Pidge will remain to handle the analysis and repair work with me on the Lions,” Allura looks at them apologetically.  Pidge only gives her a smile and a shy shrug. “Hunk will remain on guard with Shiro.”

“That leaves Keith and Lance to handle the collection,” Shiro fills in after a pause.  It takes longer than usual to get the reaction, but when it bubbles up, it’s no less smaller than usual.

“What?” Lance nearly shouts, standing up just as Keith sprints to the front.

Keith waves frantically at Shiro, his voice sounding mildly panicked, “Why are you sending us?”

“And why not alone?”

“The reason,” Shiro begins and both paladins fall silent. “The reason is because Keith is the fastest pilot of the group and it’s unsafe to go alone.  Plus,” Shiro glances at Lance through the corner of his eye.  Lance wonders how that scar on his nose healed so nicely without stitches. “I think some time away from the home ship will do you both good.”

Keith looks like he’s about to respond before he’s cut off by Shiro placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know you can handle this mission efficiently and swiftly.  I need to you accept.”

Lance hates how quickly Keith’s resistance dies in his throat.  He also hates the over the shoulder glance from Keith expecting him to say something.

“How long is the mission?” Lance asks, ignoring the surprise in Keith’s eyes or the approval smeared all over Shiro’s face.

Allura steps up, giving them both a gentle smile.  “I did the calculation with Pidge this morning, including all the stops you’ll have to make for fuel and parts, and it comes to around one month in Earth time. “

“A month?” Hunk stands up.  “We have to solo guard the castle space ship thing for a month?”

Hunk’s surprise outweighs Lance’s, who can only find it in himself to start laughing.  “You’re joking right? Allura, babe I love the attempt but that’s just cruel.”

The castle feels incredibly still under Lance’s feet.  Shiro scratches the back of his head. “This isn’t a joke Lance,” Allura supplies, narrowing her eyes at him. “Keith needs the backup and I can’t afford to send anyone else.”

Lance knows what this really is, under the guise of missing parts.  The team had noticed the relationship change between the red and blue paladins.  It feels as if his blood has run cold.  His fingers feel numb in his fists.

To his surprise, it’s Keith that speaks up. “When are we expected to leave?”

“A couple of days.  We need to stock a carrier ship we’re getting with supplies.  Some of the parts are in populated areas so you might have to barter for them, which will require us to figure out currency,” Pidge begins muttering to themselves.

Keith looks at Shiro expectantly. “And our Lions?”

“We can’t risk you taking them with you,” Shiro sounds sorry but honestly, Lance couldn’t give a fuck.  “The carrier ship is light and we’ll be installing some attack and defensive measures, nothing over the top.  Taking your Lions and risking getting captured when you’re god knows how far from the rest of us spells disaster.”

“This whole stupid mission spells disaster,” Lance shoots back, his arms folding.

Allura slams her hand on the navigation board to Lance’s right, startling him into jumping a few inches into the air.  The hair on the back of his neck stands up. “If it doesn’t get completed, we’ll be a dead disaster so enough arguing.”  Everyone falls silent.  Keith is still staring expectantly at Shiro. “You both leave in two days’ time, so be ready.”

And that’s it, Allura adjourns the meeting. Everyone shuffles out until Lance is left alone in the room.  He’s left alone with the silence of space and the mild pain on his left leg.

He pinches himself again.

Keith is waiting for him when he exits.

“Miss me already? I know I’ve been gone, but I promise this vacation is our break from work.”

The other male groans, rolling his eyes and Lance can’t help but laugh.  Keith gives him a hopeless look, but there’s a smile slow dancing on his lips. “How can I miss you when I never get a break from your stupid face?”

“This face is the best.”

“Second best.”

“Below the belt, Mullet Man.”

They’re interrupted by Pidge running up to them, a light hop in their step.  “Hurry up, you guys.  Hunk managed to repair the goo dispenser and now we’re getting wacky new colors.”

\---

When Lance lies in bed that night, he closes his eyes and counts the tiles behind his eyelids.  He’s noticed that lately, when his eyes are closed, he counts 187, a number that hollows out his chest.  It’s unfamiliar and distorted.  He doesn’t like to think too long about it.  Rather, he just counts over and over as if he were searching for a mistake.

The tiles don’t change and neither does he. 

He honestly doesn’t think he’ll change anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please talk to me about Lance:  
> ghostering@tumblr  
> @t33thing (twitter)


	3. Demon Host

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's got a sickness in him, that boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I was listening to while writing: Demon Host - Timber Timbre  
> Thanks for sticking around, folks.

_It was real and I repent_  
_All those messages you sent, clear as day, but in the night_  
_Oh, I couldn’t get it right_

Lance won his first swim meet when he was 12 years old.  It wasn’t a big competition, he was one of the few older boys in his swimming group but it was a victory all the same.  Lance, with his long gangly legs and loose holding arms, his bruised knees from kneeling on the kitchen floor, helping his mom scrub the place just a day before, won the 500 meters freestyle.  He remembers the feeling of emerging from the water, nearly tripping on the ledge with his adrenalin still pumping, a ringing in his ears. 

He remembers his family running at him, his older brothers, his younger sisters.  He remembers the feeling of his father’s hand, resting on his weight shoulder, gripping him fondly.  Lance can still feel the layers of callousness on his father’s fingers, the long jagged scars that traced up his elbow from an accident at work, the slightly crooked finger from never wrapping a broken bone in a splint.  “You did well,” he said to Lance, wiggling his thick mustache to make him smile.

And Lance did smile, couldn’t help smiling the drive home, the walk upstairs to his room.  He smiled through dinner, though no one really brought it up anymore.  He smiled through his shower before bed and when he was brushing his teeth.  He smiled when he whispered for his brother to move over, give their sister more room on the bed.  He smiled even though an elbow dug at his side the whole night.

He remembers this moment so vividly because it's the last time he wins anything. 

 Lance’s father passed away when he’s thirteen, three weeks before his next competition.  He refused to enter after; even at the pleas of his mother, that swimming would be good for him in those hard times.  Instead, Lance threw himself into studying.  He watched his father’s old flight videos.  He began memorizing combat aircrafts, collected old models.  His siblings helped him by gathering used books as study materials.  Lance’s drive carried him to the Garrison.

Despite his efforts, he fell down the ranks to cargo pilot.

He tried to console himself, there was too much competition, tons of the recruits were waiting to show their skills, it was only the beginning of the semester—there is plenty of time to climb the ranks. 

Lance stared at the board with his name blinking lowly on the list.  His eyes scanned up to the first couple single digits.

“I can’t believe how high you ranked this time,” a voice stated to his left, an excited laugh.  Lance didn’t turn to face it, but watched from the corner of his eyes as a girl leaned over the shoulder of a shorter male.  Stoic face, pale skin, outdated haircut.  The boy looked unimpressed, raised an eyebow and sighed. 

“It wasn’t really anything,” he responded before leaving the ranking list, heading down the hall.  Lance tasted bile in his throat, raw and meaty that made him squirm.  His eyes felt hot, like they were being held against the used coals of the fireplace.  Lance left the board too, but with a grand realization that day.

No matter how hard he fucking tries, his body will eventually follow his dad’s beaten path.

A failed pilot and soft food for the soil.

\---

The days leading up the expedition were relatively calm.  Hunk has been making use of the different kinds of goo, going so far as to call his latest concoction tonight an “alien Cajun chicken, no trust me it’s pretty darn close.” Lance is firmly disagreeing on the basis that it is fucking purple.

“Hunk, what the fuck.”

Hunk has the audacity to look offended, raising the goo up his heart like a child. “Don’t use that language with me in front of my food.”

“He’s got a point,” Pidge muttered, poking the blob on their plate with mild fascination. “It is purple Hunk, and not like a clear gummy bear purple.  It’s foggy.”

“Doesn’t look really safe,” Keith pipes in.  Lance watches gloved hands as the red paladin gently scopes his serving onto Shiro’s plate.  Shiro gives him a reluctant smile before facing Hunk.

“I think the attempt was appreciated,” he states kindly, slowly pushing his plate of two servings further and further away from him.

“Honestly guys.  I thought we were a team.”

Lance grimaces, “not the ride together, die together kind.”

“Yeah, more like the ‘maybe we’ll attend your piano recital’ kind.”

Hunk looks dejected and lowers the plate in his hands.  Allura is usually the one to fall back on comfort but recently, she’s been so absorbed with making sure the map coordinates are correct for their mission that Lance hasn’t seen her around.

Taking a deep breath, Lance scoops up a generous serving of purple mucus, mentally plugging his nose, and shoving it into his mouth.  Pidge gasps, their glasses slipping down the bridge of their nose.

Lance lets it slide down his throat, holding his breath the entire time.  Once the feeling of slime stops triggering his taste buds, he looks up at Hunk with the biggest smile he can muster.  “Not bad, buddy.”

There’s silence before Hunk bursts into playful tears, running around the table embrace him.  Lance starts screaming before the big man reaches him, trying to claw himself away, still smiling. 

“That’s why we’re the legs man, we hold everyone up,” Hunk’s gushing and Lance wants to be thankful that Hunk won’t ever change, that he’s a man to anchor one’s self to. 

“Everyone,” Allura briskly walks in, her long skirt blowing behind her in waves that remind Lance of something painfully close to home. “The carrier ship is done being modified and I have uploaded the map coordinates successfully.”

Lance notices she has that gentle smile playing on her lips, the one she wears when she feels like she’s accomplished a great feat. He usually finds himself falling in love with that smile.  It’s a promise for something he hasn’t felt in a long time so he can’t help the next words that leave his lips.

“Do I get a going away kiss?”

Allura looks at him dead forward, completely silent and unamused.  He gives her an awkward laugh and shrugs off the gentle tapping of Shiro on the back of his head, a signal to knock it off. 

“Fortunately, we have more pressing matters,” she continues.  “The two of you will leave in a few moments so I suggest we make sure everything is set one more time.”  That’s Pidge’s cue apparently, because they jump up and follow Allura out.

Shiro gets up second, rolling his shoulders to get the kinks out.  “Alright, you guys heard her.  Gather up your things and let’s all meet at the docking port.”

“Alright,” Lance responds, out of habit more than anything.  Keith doesn’t respond, simply leaving the dining hall in his usual silence.  Hunk is giving him a desperate look, making Lance nervous. “What…?”

He’s getting embraced again, this time more firmly and Lance feels like he’s dying but he doesn’t mind. “I’m gonna miss you, man.  You two better hurry the fuck back.”

“Now who’s using the foul language?”

“It felt appropriate.”

They split up when they get to their rooms so Lance can make sure he’s packed.  He’s put together a small bag, some clothes lent to him by Coran, his slippers and robe because life is about the little things.  He’s got this photo he keeps hidden in the bottom of his bag, under his things.  It takes him a total of three minutes; he’s been packed up for days with all the free time he’s been having at night. 

Lance glances up at the ceiling before he leaves, memorizes the shape of the tiles, the small cracks and the polished finishes.  He can see them in the back of his eyes but there’s something terrifying and sinister about leaving it behind.  He’s afraid he’ll forget to count at night and the thought makes his fingertips numb.  He can tell he’s breathing fast but there’s something clutching the lobes of his lungs and pulling them down into his guts, twisting and twisting. 

Lance spills the feeling all over the floor.

\---

Lance is the last one to enter the loading dock.  His mouth still tastes like sick and he’s sure he looks paler but no one says anything.  He holds off the urge to pinch his leg running up to everyone. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he pants out, standing next to Shiro.  Keith is looking at him, agitated.  He’s probably been packed up and situated since they finished lunch.

“No worries, Lance,” Allura says with that smile on her lips.  “Everything is set, I’ve given Keith a quick rundown on any unfamiliar systems in the ship which he’ll show you when you switch off.  It’s a long flight, so I highly recommend taking turns.”

“Not unless you want to vomit,” Keith mutters out and Lance’s heart stops.   _Did he hear me?_  He stands so still, every long limb on his body develops an uncharacteristic stillness.

Hunk is laughing to his right. “I honestly think Lance’s gotten a lot better.” He smacks Lance hard on the back and due to his current condition, he falls.  It’s graceless, kind of ugly, a solid example of how gravity works and when he makes contact, the sound that leaves his lips is downright humiliating.

Keith is giving him a look before crouching down and reaching out as to help Lance up.  Lance is immediately on his feet, brushing himself off and laughing over the look Hunk is giving to his hand, like he just realized his own strength.

“You told me to build more muscle mass,” Lance jokes.  Hunk picks it up and laughs with him. 

It takes a few more assurances and Lance finds himself hauling his back up the ramp into the carrier ship before a warm hand rests on his shoulder.  Keith is already in side, probably picked the best seat so when Lance turns around, his expression is flat.  Allura is at the end of his sight, gently holding his shoulder.

“Return swiftly,” she says and her voice is so so gentle and soft and something inside Lance yearns for it, would probably beg for it.  She reaches forward and gives him a small peck on his check, nothing intimate, if anything it was motherly but Lance feels it all the same. 

He enters the ship in a half daze and takes the seat in the far right from Keith, just where the clear glass allows him to see all of space.  He waves to the other paladins as the docks open and he’s feels open and vulnerable, alone in a ship with Keith and the silence of space.  The constant reminder of vacuum efforts.

After twenty minutes of silence, Lance can’t resist. “Where to first?”

“He speaks,” Keith mocks but he pulls up the holographic map, showing Lance their current location and their next one. 

“Allura was worried for nothing, it’s only a couple of hours away.”

Keith shakes his head, strands of his hair that were accidently tucked into his shirt fell free. “Yeah, but the next stop is 3 days.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

The two fall back into silence and although it’s uncomfortable, something in Lance refuses to keep up pretenses anymore.  He’s tired and this dull anger has festered in his chest long enough to make him sore.  There’s still the taste of bile on his tongue.

Apparently, Keith isn’t one for speaking so the silence remains all through the stretch of space.

Lance pinches himself, twice and looks on floor.  It’s cut into interesting shapes and if he concentrates hard enough, he can imagine them as tiles.  The notion causes him to release a breath he didn’t know he was holding.  Keith is mumbling something under his breath but Lance is too tired to bite.  He thinks Keith is humming, an old song he’s not familiar with but it has a sort of pleasantness all the same.

He forgets to count when he closes his eyes for the first time in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me more about sad Lance  
> ghostering@tumblr  
> @t33thing


	4. Day I: Lion's Tooth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took its time but was good practice for writing Keith, who I find difficult. It was a good time though. 
> 
> While writing, I listened to Loin's Tooth by The Mountain Goats. 
> 
> Big thanks to Kouji again for beta'ing my work!

The planet they land on first is quiet and green. Keith likes the way the moss seems to wave like an ocean as they approach it. It's calm, contemplative and he notices that Lance is drawn to it, sitting at the edge of his seat just inches away from pressing his face to the glass. His eyes are dazed, as if he's seeing something Keith can't see, something he'll never be able to see from his position. For a moment, Keith wants to break the silence for the first time since the start of this mission, wants to ask Lance what happened all those weeks ago, what's happening to him now that just sets him so cold. Keith doesn't ask though, something sharp and hard in his throat stops him with a harsh reminder of how, no they're not close and Lance has no reason to treat him as such. Keith wants it desperately though, from the dazed look in Lance's eyes to the clenching of his fists.

"Do you see a landing spot?" He says instead, watches as Lance's distance is ripped away and he's sputtering at Keith as if he were drowning mere moments ago. He looks like he's about to say something, probably a joke about Keith needing help but cuts himself short and looks at the growing landscape.

"There's a clearing over there," Lance points out, sticking his finger to the right of them. Keith nods, annoyed with himself for ruining the moment, and begins guiding the carrier ship smoothly down the path. They land among many other ships, all appear to be rogue.

Lance climbs out first, letting his feet hit the red dust hidden under the moss. "This looks like a hub for intergalactic trading," there's a pause followed by a gasp. "That was the nerdiest thing I've ever said, holy shit."

"Sadly, you're not wrong," Keith mutters, climbing down after him. He makes sure the hatch is shut tight and the security systems are on lock. Last thing they need is to return to a missing ship, stranded on some seedy planet in the middle of the Galaxy. When he finally turns his head away from their ship, Lance is already heading into the direction of the market, marked by the masses of individuals flocking to it. His long legs cause Keith to jog in order to catch up to him.

Lance looks mesmerized, eyes glittering at every person he sees to the flea market tables set out with all kinds of contraptions. Keith knows he should be watching the stands, looking for the breaking core that Pidge described for him but his eyes are arrested by the look on Lance's face. He looks excited, as if he's been bestowed a great gift. Despite all the planets they've been to, fighting had been the main priority. They've never stopped to marvel and observe. Keith think Lance looks beautiful almost, this childlike happiness crinkling the corners of his eyes, causes his lips to roll up in a familiar fashion that Keith can honestly say he hasn't seen since the incident.

Keith is immediately drawn to that thought, knows that Lance hasn't same after the fight with the Galra forces at the makeshift colony on the outskirts of the fifth asteroid belt. Everyone pretends not to notice, the silent muttering, the mellower attitude, the quietness to his character so surreal to Keith. He's wanted to confront him again, drudge up whatever murky sand that Lance holds at the bottom of his depths. Wanted to so badly, even though Keith can barely swim in the ocean of his own emotions.

The thought burns like a hot iron and Keith finds himself reaching out, tasting the mud on the tip of his tongue. "Lance, listen--"

"Is that what Pidge wants us to get?" Lance interrupts Keith's thoughts and shoving him back into reality. There would be plenty of times to bond with Lance once they're back to traveling. They're on a mission and if there's one thing Keith can do is remain goal oriented.

"Doesn't look like much to me," he replies, staring at the small mechanism resting on the table in front a gruff looking being, eight eyes tunes into them both.

"How many of them do we need?" Lance looks at Keith but doesn't really look at him. Keith notes that Lance has surprisingly long eyelashes.

"Three of them, for Blue, Black and Yellow."

Lance nods before moving up to the stand. Keith watches the motion of his legs, they're not wearing their battle uniforms but rather slimmer material, black with thick pockets. Their outfits reminds him of when they met Rolo, earthly tones with a weird efficiency that Keith can't explain. Allura said they'd look like typical bounty hunters in the least.

Keith strides up to the table where Lance is already bartering with the merchant.

"There's no way that costs that much," he mutters pointing to the part they need, narrowing his eyes at the merchants long slender face.

"I'm the only one sellin' it," they grunt back. Keith shrugs, reaching into the deep pockets at his side to pull out the wallet before dark fingers, covered in the same cloth as his shirt, wrap around his wrist tightly.

"You're telling me that I won't find another reasonable vendor if I hunted around?" Lance asks, fingers still tight on Keith's skin and it burns where they touch, trickles up his arm to cradle itself in his chest. He wants to rip his hand free, he wants to stay there forever. He already misses Shiro.

"What are you doing?" He hisses, sure to whisper it close to Lance's ear.

"Only an idiot would blow that much in the beginning of our quest. Don't you remember what Allura said about bartering?" The answer was biting, sharp with none of the usual humor Lance graces the team with. That's how it's been lately, this cold disconnect between Lance and himself, Keith has felt it in his shallow breathes and the grunt he gives back in return. Lance releases his wrist and goes back to arguing with the merchant. Keith lets him handle it, taking some gold pieces and slipping the wallet into the other's pocket, a pat on the shoulder as a signal he's leaving to look around. He waits for the short nod from Lance as acknowledgement before weaving his way down the market.

Keith knows they're the only humans there, but they're hardly the most interesting. Fashion blends between stands from all different planets, colors he's never seen before. He resists the need to touch anything and instead thinks of the absent stinging of his wrist where Lance had touched him. The two haven't had contact since he confronted him in the corridor all that time ago. Since the look of rage swallowed by absolute sorrow intertwined with every word Lance spoke. Something happened on that mission that Lance wasn't telling, a secret deep and raw, hidden from the sun but still festering with insects nonetheless. Keith asked Allura about it once, figuring she'd know the reason, the truth behind Lance's misplaced emotions. She provided no answers, said some things are better left buried to rot.

"Sir," a voice calls to Keith, startling him out of his daze. He looks up to see an elderly merchant, he assumes their elderly from the deep lines in their face, wave to him. He approaches carefully, sure to look at food that covered the stand. "You're an Earthling, are you not?"

Immediately Keith is on his guard, muscles tensing because how could they know, Earth was out of Zarkon's reach as far as the Paladins were sure.

The alien doesn't give him a chance to speak before pulling out a small bag from below. Keith is reaching into his pocket and wrapping his fingers around his bayard, heart racing but an eerie sense of calm washing over him. They rest the bag on the table and Keith is silent, watching with amazement as apples roll from the top.

"What?"

"I'm surprised to see your species so far out," the alien hums and Keith sees no teeth, only a void. "These are fresh, grown not too far. We got the seeds from your planet, Earthling. It does not do well in the market here." It's horrifying, that another alien race was close enough to Earth to steal some fucking fruit but he doesn't dwell on it.

"I'll take everything."

The elderly merchant nods, as if they knew the moment they say him as they reach out a delicate hand, three fingers outstretched. Keith doesn't know how the money works, reaches into his pocket and scrounges up the few coins he took from their shared wallet. The merchant takes a look at them, and Keith realizes it's not enough, not nearly enough. The merchant passes the bag over to him without another word, singling their transaction is over.

"Uh, thanks," Keith mutters, unsure what to say. The merchant pays him no mind, is already signaling another costumer. Keith takes his leave, makes it up the small hill to reach where they parked the carrier ship.

Lance is leaning against it, his own pack in hand, no doubt with all the components they came here for inside judging by his smug look. It's immediately wiped off his face when he sees the bag in Keith's arms, much to his satisfaction. He's standing straight by the time the ship doors open and Keith moves passed him to enter.

"Is that?" Lance is hesitant, appears unsure of himself and almost afraid to keep going, following Keith with silent footsteps. That's something that always bothered him, that Lance was loud and large but moved as if no one was ever there. Like Lance was a ghost.

Keith turns over his shoulder to see Lance standing still at the end of the dock, shoes painting red from the dark sand. He reaches inside the bag, breathes on it before rubbing it against his shirt and throwing the apple in his direction. Lance catches it without breaking contact, until he builds up the courage to look at the bright red fruit in his hands.

"Holy shit, Keith." Keith enters the ship and pretends to feel superior that he found such a delicacy, pretends he doesn't hear Lance crying at the landing, or his sniffling when enters and takes his seat, or the soft sounds of chewing in between quick intakes of breath.

There are a thousand questions Keith wants to ask. What happened that night on the asteroid colony mission? What does home taste like? Lance, are you ever so scared you can't sleep? Do you know you're beautiful?

Keith doesn't ask any of those questions, and Lance on his second apple, answers none of them. The flight falls back into silence, but it's not ugly like before. It's light, delicate and soft and Keith knows there's almost no tension now. The air smells sweet, stained with the apples and he likes it. He opens up the map, eyes trained on their next destination, sitting no less than three days away. He's about to announce their take off when Lance is thrusting something at him. It's a cut of the apple, clean and red in Lance's long fingers. He didn't see when he pulled out the dagger. Keith looks at the fruit, innocent and almost like an apology but Keith doesn't know to whom.

"Thanks," he says, with the same hesitancy he gave the street merchant. Lance raises an eyebrow at him before giving him a huge grin. Although it doesn't reach his eyes, Keith feels warmth with it.

"Of course. I mean they're not as good as the ones back home, but I can't complain," Lance laughs out loud, with his whole body. "You look like you've never had them before."

"I know what they are!" Keith huffs, lifting the air craft and working their way out of the atmosphere. He's chewing slowly, savoring the sweetness of the fruit. It's juicy, more than Lance appears to want to admit so Keith doesn't mention it.

"Where to next?"

Keith looks at Lance. Really looks at him and watches how Lance refuses to face him. He sometimes thinks he wants to kiss Lance the same he wants to be kissed by Shiro. And just like Shiro, there's something buried deep with Lance that he's refusing to share. Keith wants to dig his fingers into the flesh of it, feel the meat under his nails and drink what spills out. Instead, he answers the question by bringing up the next planet destination on the hologram map.

"Three days, huh?" Lance says, leaning back and stretching long limbs. The distance is back in his voice. "Looks like your stuck with this gift of a human specimen for a while?" He's smirking, poking Keith on the cheek.

"Let's make it in two," he grunts out before flooring it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk headcanons with me @:  
> Tumblr @ghostering  
> Twitter @t33thing


	5. Day II & III:Dormiveglia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith tugs harshly at his collar, ripping him out of his state on the ground, pulling him up with all his strength.
> 
> “Run!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG TIME NO SEE. Sorry for the delay to update 186 Tiles, I've been distracted by TDEN. Thanks for all the feedback.  
> Also, I really like sad Lance help me.  
> Unbeta'd.

Lance is floating.

The air around him is delicate, cold against his skin, tingles his lips. He wrestles his eyes open, feeling them welded together by a thin layer of crust. When he finally does crack on open, he sees the castle at his feet, large and imposing and impossibly bright in the darkness around him. He’s drifting in space, he realizes slowly but even the thought is not enough to wake him out of his dormiveglia. The castle grows smaller, the blinking lights dancing in Lance’s eyes like stars and constellations. He feels the heat of something behind him as he floats. He knows what it is before turning his head.

Muffled, he hears the screams of the asteroid colony, packed together in something that reminded him of a train car. There’s a fire, bold and hot that licks the air around his skin. He’s floating to it gently, away from the castle, into the arms of a screaming horde. He thinks he hears children too, but it’s a vacuum and everything is set to low. 

Someone exits the castle, a man in a space suit, helmet tinted to stop the glare of the growing fire. Lance wonders, dazed and dreamy, how a fire can even happen in open space. But the heat is there, searing into his flesh the closer he drew, seeping through his clothes.

“Lance!” The person is calling his name, doing frantic swimming motions as if to get to him faster. Lance wants to laugh but even in the blur he knows this is no laughing matter. “Lance!”

The person doesn’t reach him before charred arms, large and small, pull Lance into the howling wreckage.

***

Lance wakes up slowly, pulling himself out of his dream with casual sureness of routine. He reaches his hand to his face, feeling the wetness under his eyes and makes to rub it away. He fully opens them, immediately regretting the white glare that erupts his vision from inside the carrier ship. He groans.

“You talk a lot in your sleep.”

Lance’s eyes widen, mouth falling slightly open as he looks at Keith, laying beside him in the makeshift sleeping area, created from old clothes and gathered pillows from the castle to give them a place to rest on the hard metal floors. The ship is on autopilot, moving them in the designated direction at an acceptable pace.

Keith is watching him, eyes curious with his hair splayed around him, framing his face. He looks pretty, handsome even but Lance bites his tongue and frowns at him.

“Were you watching me sleep?”

“We slept side by side, is it really that weird?” Keith looks insincere, holding back a small smile from the twitching corners of his lips. Lance frowns harder.

“Yeah, actually,” he mumbles before shifting to lay on his stomach, covering his face in slightly damp cloth. He must have been sweating last night. He can still feel Keith watching him. Lance wants to snap at him, bite his teeth like an angry dog but he’s so exhausted. Something about Keith being there felt soothing, made the tension in his shoulders ease. “How close are we?” he asks, muffled by the shirt in his pressed tightly against his mouth.

He feels Keith shift, their shoulders and knees knocking against each other a few times as he gets up. Lance instantly feels colder without him, more alone and it causes his cheeks to flush. He doesn’t move from where his face is buried when Keith begins speaking.

“Judging from the map, we’ll make it by tomorrow. See? Two days time,” Keith hums out and it’s in the same tune he used on the first day, melodic and sweet like the apples he snagged. Lance feverishly works to ignore that he saw him crying.

Lance, with his long stretched limbs, reach past the edge of the mess of clothing, touching his toes against the cool ship’s floors, vibrating with effort to push them through space. With a grunt, he pushes himself to bend up, using his arms to arch his back and form a sitting position. Cold air rushes to meet his bare shoulders, makes a shiver crawl down his spine and tremble his legs. He can feel Keith’s eyes burning through the soft fabric on his back.

He rubs his hands in his face, one final attempt to wake up and stands. His legs feels wobble but he makes his way to Keith by the map with no complaints. Keith throws him an apple, bright red and solid in his palm. He feels like crying again but refuses to, not when Keith has been analyzing him since they got up. He takes a bite.

“Something on my face?” he asks around the bits of fruit in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously with his mouth open. Keith finally turns away from him, faces the projection of the map, watching the blinking constellation shifts and the movement of the icon representing their ship. 

“Your hair is sticking up.”

Lance gasps, rapidly moving his hands to head to find that, yes, he was a serious cowlick going on with both sides. There’s not much he can do about it, smoothing it out with his fingers as he chews. His hair is slightly damp, but not enough to reshape. 

“We need to make an emergency stop.”

“No.” 

Keith is smirking, that bastard.

***

They reach their next destination in record time, with only three seconds away from Keith murdering Lance and burying him under the floorboards of their ship. The planet is different than the ones Lance has seen, smaller in size than most and covered with lush green forest.

They find a small clearing and land delicately. Coran had informed them that this planet was similar to a Bulmara, that it was a living, breathing creature and therefore anything attached to the soil was felt. It felt holy, like Lance should tread lightly, as a form of apology for disturbing it. Keith apparently had no qualms stomping about, moving forward with his bayard drawn to cut through the thickets of vines and moss.

“So, we’re looking for a certain kind of crystal.”

Keith pauses his murderous rampage to look at Lance, sweat building on his brow. He retracts his sword if only to use both hands to tie his hair up, away from his face. “Yeah, they’re really small and fragile.”

“Wouldn’t they, you know,” Lance mutters, pointing to the ground as if the planet could hear him. “Be buried under the soil?”

“No, I asked Coran about it.” Keith finishes tying his hair before recalling his sword and moving through the forest, less murderous and more mindful of where he’s stepping. Lance follows closely behind.

“Well, that’s interesting, but do you think something’s off about this place?”

Keith sighs, exasperated. “No, it’s just like every other place we visited before.”

“Yeah, but Coran said this place is similar to the Bulmara.”

Keith groans, hopping over a trunk that Lance doesn’t see and nearly makes intimate contact with the ground. “It is, Lance.”

“Yeah, okay I get that you’re busy but listen. On the Bulmara there were little sounds from their insects and the people that inhabit it right?”

Keith is not a lot further ahead, due to Lance stopping dead in his tracks, eyes focused on the ground, where he notices that some red sand still clung to his boots, a vast contrast to the green under him.

“What’s your point, Lance?” Keith all but shouts, turning around wildly with his hair clinging to his damp forehead. He looks tired, like he hasn’t been sleeping well. Lance blinks slowly, straining his ears.

“How come it’s dead silent?”

“Because--” But Keith cuts himself off, focusing on listening to. There was no rustling of small creatures, no animal calls, no hums of machinery. The trees did not shift, there was no breeze. The planet was more silent than the vast space around them. 

“Keith,” Lance whispers out, eyes wide and looking around, careful to keep his body movement to a minimum. “Where is the wild life?”

The man picks up the tension immediately, stilling his own body. He clutches his bayard. “I heard some,” he whispers back and now Lance feels less ridiculous. “When we stopped off the ship.”

“Yeah, but they’ve long since stopped now,” Lance breathes out, reaching for his own weapon in the deep pockets of his pants. When they hear it, it vibrates through the ground, climbs up Lance’s feet and shakes his whole being.

“What the fuck was that,” Keith hisses, eyes wild as he makes his way closer to Lance, who stands frozen in place. 

The same shock crawls through them again moments later, traveling through the trees. “This is some Jurassic Park shit, Keith. We gotta book it!” Lance yells, shoving Keith in a direction he felt opposite to the growing frequency of bangs.

“Jurassic what?” Keith shouts from behind him, voice eerily calm compared to the deep panic settling into Lance’s bones. 

“Fuck, I just. Dinosaurs, Keith.” He calls out, waving his arms frantically as he shoves his way past vines and moss, moving under broken logs. “Something big is coming. And seeing as how everything in the area ducked out besides us, it’s not friendly!”

Keith doesn’t argue, pushing his way to run equal to Lance as the sound grows louder, more insistent behind them. They don’t have their Lions, they’re not equipped to deal with anything bigger than their ship, nothing like the large bangs of whatever it was behind them.

The sound stops abruptly. Lance digs his heels into the soil, falling forward due to the momentum and collides with the ground. Keith stops much more gracefully beside him, turning on his heel to look at the direction. 

“It stopped,” he says, confusion blatant on his face as he looks around. “Why did it stop?”

Lance is trying to catch his breath, bent over to breathe deep. He’s about to answer when the greenery before them opens up and a large shadow casts them into darkness. Lance follows it up, stares at the titan before them, words caught violently in his throat.

Keith tugs harshly at his collar, ripping him out of his state on the ground, pulling him up with all his strength.

“Run!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just fucking love klance alright???  
> twitter @t33thing


	6. Day III: Knees Weak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is lovestruck and Keith feels uneasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i took a break from my finals. i have been updating slower because i want to work on academics and commissions (if you're interested please see: [here](http://www.ghostering.tumblr.com/commission))

“Run!” Keith shouts, wrapping his fingers around the sharp bone of Lance’s wrist, summoning all of his upper body strength in pulling the boy forward to a sprint.

It takes a few jumbled steps before it seems to click into place and soon, keeping his wrist in Keith’s grip, Lance is running beside him, jumping over stretched overgrown roots and tightly packed bushes. There’s a panicked sweat clear on his face, blue eyes blown wide with fear and something else. If Keith wasn’t forced to constantly look forward to dodge protruding branches, he might have thought it looked like excitement.

Another quake under their feet sends a volt of adrenaline down Keith’s spine. “What is that?” He asks, voice screechy to his ears as they take a sharp left turn in sync.

Lance turns to him, accepting his fate as his face smacks into a low hanging tree but their running barely hesitates. Despite the blooming bloody nose, he still finds it in himself to laugh. “I can’t believe this, I mean, it looks nothing like the movies.”

They both jump over a small river, wasting no time before diving down to a ravine, listening to the monstrous rumble of giant footsteps not far behind him. “What is it? What do you mean movies?” Lance doesn’t answer immediately, pushing their way further into the dips of the earth, until they were covered by a wave of soil, hidden from view. The large footsteps move right past them, accompanied by a roar that shakes the small insects Keith spots roaming near his feet. They’re the first signs of life he has seen in any intimacy since the two of them have landed.

“Keith,” Lance breathes out, pausing when nothing seems to rumble. They’re alone. “That’s a dinosaur.”

Keith stares at him, mouth slowly falling agape as the wildlife around them begin to spark up.

He hears the sound of birds, chirping shrill in his ears.  Finally, watching the red drip down Lance’s chin into his cupped hands, he snaps.

“That’s fucking bullshit.”

“No, seriously,” Lance rebuts, staring at him with the same excitement that crept on his face while they were running for their lives. “Did you see the teeth on that thing?”

“Thousands of things we’ve faced had  _ teeth _ , Lance. That could literally be anything.”

“It was a dinosaur.” He sounds so sure of himself. “I swear on it.”

Keith’s face scrunches up in disbelief, childish anger rising to the bait just to argue. Before he can open his mouth, he registers that Lance has already moved to the flowing stream near them, ducking his fingers into the water before bringing it up to clean his nose. The blood smears around his upper lip messily, almost endearing to Keith as he watches.

“How’s your nose?”

“Well,” Lance says, and it still sounds more lively than it’s been for  _ weeks _ . “It’s not broken.”

“That’s, uh, good?” Keith feels unsure of himself.

Lance nods, standing back up once he’s satisfied. He looks up at the sky, squinting at the purple streaks that cover a cloudless blank sheet of orange. “It’s going to be dark soon.”

“We should find cover,” Keith suggests, moving to stand beside him. His fingers twitch with the urge to wrap around Lance’s wrist once more, maybe even lucky enough to hold his hand. He strikes the thought immediately as it appears, a frown etching onto his face. “We don’t know how the weather works here or if there’s any food. Plus, Allura said the crystal would be beneath the mountains.”

Lance shrugs his shoulders, reaching to rub his nose in small circles. “We can head back to the ship?”

Keith shakes his head, eyes trained to the sky, if only to avoid making eye contact. He fails, catching Lance staring at him as his fingers press against the skin on his bridge. “It’s too far,” he says after a while. “The security camouflage should be able to keep it safe until we get back. And judging from the dip in the sky, the mountains are to the right.”

Lance nods but his eyes remain glued to the sky. “I didn’t notice much of a sun when we approached this planet.” Keith rips his attention away from the Blue Paladin to look up, collecting the streaks and the near perfect slate of solid color. An uneasiness settles within him then, a deep sick feeling that ebbs and flows through his veins to land heavy in his feet.

“We should continue moving.”

Keith turns to begin walking towards the vague outlining of the mountains that seem similar to the ones Allura describe. Sharp and jagged, with an ominous mysteriousness to them. Lance follows, taking smaller, quieter steps so he falls behind Keith. There’s no more energy in his step, no excitement sparkling in his eyes that Keith can catch when he glances back.

In fact, lately Lance has looked older. They’ve been Paladins for a couple years now and everyone has aged but Lance hasn’t in the fine lines Shiro has, in the thicker body of Hunk or the sharpness of Pidge. He’s aged in the eyes, what once was a restless sea of love and recklessness, sinking ships who wander from their bay, is now still water, void of any movement.

It terrifies Keith in a way he’s never expressed.

The sky continues to darken the closer they get to the mountains. The silence between them finally snaps when Lance groans. “Why didn’t we park closer?” he whines.

“Because,” Keith mutters, hopping over another ravine and nearly feeling his feet slip. They’ve been at this for hours and it’s wearing on them both. “The forest was too dense to move through.”

“But the mountains.”

“Allura said we’d mess with the systems if we flew too close to them.”

Lance knows this intimately from the way he painstakingly examined every note left on the console while they traveled, eyes trained to the hologram lettering with unwavering focus, his lips a thin line. Not that Keith was watching.

They find the cave just before they’re encased in complete darkness.

It’s damp, smells of moss and rain which seems to be a plus for Lance, who moves close to the walls to feel the jutting rocks, mindful of sharp tips. Even in the dark, the faint light of the palms of his hands, some kind of Altean fiber, glows a gentle blue. Keith traces the movement, from the delicate dips of fingers into cracks to the smooth rubbing of marble.

“We’re gonna need a fire.”

“And food,” Keith adds, already regretting not taking any provisions from the carrier ship. “I’ll go looking. You gather some wood.”

Lance doesn’t argue. He hardly ever argues much anymore and despite the comfort Keith finds in silence, this sets him on edge. Turning on his heel, blade pulled out, he leaves before something vile slips through his lips.

* * *

 

He returns to find a pile of branches and overgrown root, neatly arranged near the entrance of the cave, but still out of sight. Upon entering, Keith spots Lance sitting forward, facing the walls of their hideout with his legs folded underneath him. It’s nearly pitch black except for the dim light of their palms but he can make out the movement of Lance’s lips, hypnotic and slow, as if savoring something Keith might never truly understand. He grits his teeth.

“I found some fruit. The ES scan says they’re safe for us to eat.”

Lance snaps his head towards him, eyes faint but remains a burning blue, stillness in the water. He scooches over to him, crouching next to Keith as he works the wood, building a small flame using the cracked leaves. The fire brightens up the cave, revealing how truly alone the two of them are. Lance is closer than Keith originally thought, they’re nearly face to face once the flame lights up.

He’s close enough to kiss.

Keith looks away.

“Want some fruit?”

Lance sits back, adding some more distance between them as he takes the offered food from Keith’s hand, making quick work of peeling the hard purple skin and plopping a slice into his mouth. He coughs, immediately sputtering out enough juice that Keith puts a protective hand over their fire to keep stray liquid from putting it out. By the time Lance composes himself, Keith has also taken a slice but was more mindful of the amount he stuffed into his mouth.

“That was a fucking fountain,” Lance manages, voice harsh from coughing. “What are these things?”

Keith shrugs. “They’re edible. That’s all I got.”

“I already miss the apples.”

They continue to eat in silence, chewing occasionally punctuated by the crackles of the fire. Once Lance is finished with his meal, he snaps. “Okay, this is boring. Let’s play a game.”

Keith is still working on his last slice. “What game?”

“Truth or dare.”

He narrows his eyes, looking at Lance disapprovingly. “What are you? 12?”

“Yes,” he hisses. “C’mon, Keith.”

“Fine. Truth or dare?”

Lance appears to ponder his options, looking up to the ceiling and down to the solid dirt under them. “Dare.”

He makes a show of looking around the cave, before landing on another hard shell of purple. “I dare you to shove the whole fruit into your mouth.”

Lance’s face immediately looks sick, his happy-go-lucky attitude replaced with disgust that brightens Keith’s night. He gulps. “The whole thing?”

“Yup.”

“What if I drown?”

“You know we all got CPR certified at the Garrison. Don’t worry, I’ll bring you back.”

Lance frowns. “That’s real assuring.”

It takes him a few breathes to build up the confidence once Keith kindly peeled the shell back for him. With shaky hands, Lance pushes the white flesh of the fruit past his lips in one swift motion. He bites down and his eyes widen as juice falls from his mouth, spilling onto the cave floor and narrowly missing Keith as he leans forward, choking on his own laughter.

“Mmmh!” Lance gurgles, muffled as he tries to swallow everything, failing when more juice squirts out. Eventually, it settles and he breathes through his nose, working the food softly down his throat before inhaling. “That was brutal.”

“It sure was,” Keith mumbles, still stifling his laughter as Lance grins at him. The juice has stained his lips and chin, shiny in the flame’s light against the dark backdrop. “My turn.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Lance leans back, his expression a lot softer. “How long have you wanted to be a fighter pilot?”

The question has a million things hidden between each letter, flooded with a deeper meaning that Keith can’t trace in Lance’s eyes. He stares at the other man, catches the way neither of them waver, the small intake of breath that stutters in their lungs.

“I joined the Garrison because it was the best path for someone like me.”

The answer seems unfavorable, Lance’s lips turn into a frown that nearly looks malicious in the dim lighting, curling with a fury that Keith has only seen at a distance, directed at Lance’s reflection whenever he thought he was alone.

“What do you mean, someone like you?”

“I wasn’t the best kid, Lance. I caused a lot of trouble until Shiro pushed me to join.”

“So you did it because Shiro told you to?”

“No!” Keith snaps, sucking in the floating ash. The cave feels cooler now, goosebumps forming under the black of their bounty clothes. “No,” he whispers this time, looking down with shame for his sudden anger. He’s been better at it lately. “I did it for myself.”

Lance’s expression softens again, and for a split moment, Keith swears he sees movement underneath the water.

“Well,” Lance leans back, crossing his arms behind him to rest his head as sits, instantly calming the mood. “Your turn.”

Keith doesn’t want to play anymore but for the first time since this all started, he sees an opening.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth. Your dares hurt.”

Without much thought, he scooches closer to the other paladin, rubbing his knees on the solid ground of the cave without a care until he’s sitting directly in front of him. Lance’s relaxed position stiffens. He looks uneasy, glancing anywhere but Keith’s eyes.

“Okay.”

Lance inhales sharply, a slight whistle as air sucks in past his teeth.

“What happened during the mission of that space colony? The one on the fifth belt.”

Lance stops breathing altogether. His eyes refuse to meet Keith, instead focusing on the entrance of the cave behind him.

“Lance,” Keith begins but is swiftly interrupted.

“Nothing happened, Keith. I can’t believe you’re still hung up on that.”

The anger from before bursts forward without the Red Paladin’s consent, a growl practically escaping his mouth. “It seems like you’re the one hung up on it.”

Lance finally makes eye contact, vision shifting to meet Keith’s in a quiet plea. There’s nowhere to run anymore, no castle hidden rooms, no paladins to distract with. It’s just them, in the middle of a dark planet, infested with  _ dinosaurs _ of all things. Keith won’t let him run away.

“Fuck you, Keith,” is the whisper and Lance moves to get away.

His arms move on instinct, gloved hands coming to cup Lance’s face, the faint red glow framing the sharpness of his jaw. Even with the material separating skin on skin, Keith feels the scar that lines his cheek from their first assault on a Galra colony, feels the slight spikes of hair that Lance never found the time to shave. He feels his pulse, from under the skin of his cheeks and the shaky breaths.

“What happened, Lance?”

The Blue Paladin looks like he’s about to cry, lip trembling against Keith’s thumb. Keith doesn’t waver though, he’s wavered all this time. He holds him, keeps his face in his hands as he waits patiently. Eventually, Lance cracks.

“I,” he practically hiccups. “I did something bad, Keith.”

It isn’t a confession or an honest retelling but it’s the most he’s ever gotten from him, the most of the truth he was ever allowed to know. Keith feels something blossom in his chest, a thick thunder that skips his heart and knocks the air from his lungs. Lance looks defeated, dark circles heavy under his eyes and tears threatening to fall. Keith can’t strike the thought fast enough this time.

He kisses him.

There’s a small gasp of surprise, almost like a whistle before Lance relaxes in his hands and leans down, pressing back against his lips. He tastes like the sweet nectar from the fruit, fresh and almost a bit scared. Keith lets his lips remain there, never pushing too hard, never moving away until Lance sighs through his mouth, moving closer.

Their knees buckle against each other and Keith is thrown back to being a child, kissing under slides and scraping elbows. They’re fumbling like neither has done this before. He can’t find himself to dislike it, the way Lance even closes his eyes when he kisses is so  _ Lance _ that it has a smile curling on Keith’s lips. He pulls back first.

Lance stops him from getting too far. The tears are free falling now but he has a grip on Keith’s hands, cupping and pushing them harder against his cheeks. He looks miserable. He looks like he’s lovestruck.

Keith hopes Lance can see he is too.

“Do it again,” Lance whispers in the dark. Keith nods before leaning in.

Despite their practice, it’s sloppier the second time. Lance opens his mouth, coaxes Keith’s tongue to follow and soon his hands are drifting down a dark neck, ticking the small hairs on the back. Their teeth clack against each other harshly but neither makes a move to stop, shifting closer until Keith is practically on Lance’s lap, pushing up against his knees so he’s taller. He kisses down as Lance moves to follow his lips.

There’s a moment where neither of them can breathe, popping their lips away from each other to inhale the damp air. Lance looks disheveled, one of Keith’s hands tightly wrapping fingers in his hair, the other curling at the back of his neck. Pupils blown wide leaving a thin ring of blue. He’s stopped crying now. Instead, he looks like he longs for sleep.

“You should sleep.”

Lance whines, high in his throat as he lets his head fall into Keith’s chest, rubbing his forehead against his sternum like a child. Eventually, Lance listens, moving to a more comfortable position, with Keith acting as a makeshift pillow. It’s cold enough to excuse them for sleeping so close together, but Keith doesn’t really want to make any excuse at all.

His partner’s breathing steadies quickly, falling into a pattern of gentle exhales as long limbs wrap around Keith and pull him close.

It’s only when he swipes at his lips does he hiss at the stinging. Blood pulls on his tongue and he realizes, with some morbid fascination, that Lance had bite him sometime during the kissing, hard enough to break skin and yet, Keith hadn’t noticed. He tongues at the bite wound, enjoying the blooming mild pain.

He wants to know what happened. He wants Lance to admit out loud what’s tormenting him, even if he has to drag it out with small doses of affection.

Even as his mouth bleeds, Keith thinks about the look Lance gave him. Cold and unwavering and scared, but not for himself. No, he was scared for Keith.


End file.
